Twisted - Alternate Reality
by reneencc
Summary: It is a game of hide-and-seek that you don't want to lose, but can you? 'It wasn't fair.' 'Today, you were alive once more.' A much darker take on the event prior "Twisted". AU!


**Twisted – Alternate Reality**

(6)

_Blooming wild flower_

You always adored the simple happiness radiating from him as you immersed yourself in his smile and the genuine joy behind his huge ocean-blue eyes. You could feel yourself slipping into his grasp in which you were warped firmly around his tiny fingers but even then, you never thought of struggling, and never once did you protest.

It was a fleeting feeling as you went along with him in all those childish banters, which he won every time. But you thought, 'never mind' because you were the big brother. And big brother was supposed to let younger siblings win. You made it an unspoken rule; a rule that you voluntarily followed, just to take a glimpse of the moments when his lips curved upwards into the familiar smile that you had grown to love.

.

(3)

_I beg of you_

You first met him in a particularly cold night. Your mother was ironically drenched in sweats after hours of defiance and struggles. Her frame seemed to weaken and tremble like the worn out leaves wavering and balancing at the edge of the branches as the howling wind whipped at them. You recalled how mother's breath swallowed to hasty puffs as well as the way her strictness appeared to be gone, replaced by a tinge of tiredness. Your heart subconsciously quickened as you felt something pulling, almost painfully so, yet you refrained yourself from saying anything as your lips pursed into a thoughtful line.

Your father sat quietly beside your mother as a nearly inaudible sob escaped him. His hands, calloused and steady were now uncharacteristically shivering, cradling cautiously a bundle of clothes. As the silence of the scene tackled you, you simply leaned your head against the doorframe. An unreadable expression stayed on your pale face as your brilliant red orbs danced across the room, taking in whatever information they could lay upon.

Like a broken radio, your mind replayed the gossips of the old folks in which the child of one of your many neighbors was gone, swallowed up by silence. Your mind knew, but your body refused to acknowledge the truth; it refused to cry, to break down, to weep for the loss of a newborn life that did not even have the chance to take in its first breath.

That was the first time; you felt a deep sorrow without fully understood why.

.

(5)

_Please tell me_

You didn't know what to think about him. He slept, unguardedly, peacefully. Then he would wake up to stare at you, without a sound. He would see you, observe you and never did you remember someone other than your parent doing that; looking at you as if seeing who you really were.

He loved to curl his chubby fingers around your slender and much larger one. He would giggle and laugh as if it was the best toy in the world. Every time without a fail, he would express his delight in those cherubic laughter.

You unknowingly leaned in closer each time he laughed, almost like you were trying to memorize his laughter, his childish giggle and the simple cheerfulness that shone behind his wide blue eyes. What was this feeling, invading you steadily and slowly?

.

(1)

_Why do people fight and hurt each other?_

You were made fun of when you were a child, laughed at and frowned upon. So, even then you learned to be strong. You learned not to cry. You learned to walk away. You learned not to care. You became someone you could depend on. You became cold and alone.

.

(7)

_Valiantly blooming flower_

You walked with him on a particular day when the harsh wind came and visited the town. Different shades of the old leaves danced and fell, piling at your feet. He shrugged off your hand, running forward to catch the falling leaves, but you always reached out and pulled at his braid to hold him back.

"You will get lose," you stated, smirking when he pouted at you. Yet, a part of you unknowingly feared, for a day when he would leave you like how he so carelessly pushed away your hand.

You wondered if you were being selfish for holding him back.

.

(10)

_What can you see from your field?_

You were out hanging the lengthy sheets when you caught sight of him. His tiny figure seemed to shrink even more as you tried to see beyond the freshly washed fabrics. Curiosity tugged at you, inviting you forward. You obliged.

Then you saw, supported all so delicately in his palms; a creature of the sky with its wing painted a brilliant blue and beak a pleasant gold. Its appendage clung together in a lump as its tool to fly betrayed it to take a form similar to trash. As if devastated of its loss, it struggled, flapping them in retaliation but all was in vain.

You knew, as it continued to fight for every breath it could get, that there was no turning back. There was no more time. You paused, not really sure how to approach him. Seeing him looking so intently at the departing life, you truly pondered. What was it that he saw? What was it that seemed to exceed your comprehension?

His eyes shone and stirred with an unfamiliar emotion. They scanned over the remnants of life, those that were not seen, and those that were not heard; Rukh, but you heard them. You saw them, just like how he did…yet you couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more. Something that only he could see.

.

(9)

_Why can't people forgive each other?_

"What is war?"

The question didn't come as a surprise to you since that particular topic had been the talk of the community, circulating like venom, spreading like wildfire. Disturbance at Southwest[1] and chaos towards the East[2]. You turned to meet his eyes, which had been overshadowed by an odd sense of sadness.

"War is a time when people fight." You, who had been struggling to find the right words, figured that it would be adequate to leave it there.

"Why?"

You looked away. A wave of memories scarred you. It came without permission as you recalled the time you were hurt, when you were blamed and despised without a reason. Why? Why was it so unfair? Why were you alone hurt? Why did people have to fight?

You sighed unintentionally, letting loose the breath that you didn't realize you held.

"Perhaps," you started. "They can't find it in themselves to forgive."

.

(8)

_The rain passed, and summer took on blue hues_

You raced with him to the shallow river, gathering mushroom that bloomed after the rain, digging out worms for your fishing trip. You giggled and laughed like a child in front of the greatest treasure of all time.

It was a simple happiness. Whether it was plucking out wild flowers of various shades for the old clay vase mother adored or following father to chop some woods in the forest. You found it to be the simplest form of joy to stay by his side to lavish the things that you thought weren't that enjoyable before.

And only during those moments did you allow yourself to forgo the fact that you were unwanted.

.

(14)

_All alone now_

"It's a lie."

A whisper that barely concealed your fear slipped past your tightly guarded lips.

"A lie," you repeated, sounding more like you were trying to convince yourself than the others. The stench of trepidation grasped you more than ever for someone you so desperately depended on, even without conscious, were suddenly gone, leaving you in the rising ash and burning village.

You always found him. You always did. Nonetheless, as you raced through the inferno calling out his name, the notion that you would fail to find him crossed your mind, and you didn't dare to think anymore.

You didn't dare to imagine a life without him.

.

(4)

_You trembled before me_

When he lied lifelessly in your father's arm, you couldn't force a tear out of you because you didn't know him. He, who was a new addition to your family. He, who brought exhilaration and anticipation even before he was born and he, whom you refused to acknowledge lest being rejected like you always were.

Yet, seeing him losing what you had made you realize that despite everything, he couldn't have what was bestowed upon you, what you hated, what you took for granted; life. With an arm held out, you received the newborn, whose body weighed nothing.

Taking a glimpse at the face shadowed by the pristine linen, the words that you couldn't seem to grasp came to you tangibly as if you could reach out and touch it. They flowed from your mouth; words that you didn't expect to say.

"Aladdin. I am Judar. Ju-dar," you emphasized, recalling that mother used to do that a lot to you when you were younger. "I am your big brother, kay? That's why…let's play a lot when you are up. We can play tag or hide-and-seek or we can catch some cicadas, they are feisty around this time of the year…"

You saw father's frown softening at the corner of your eye while mother's sob stilled.

"And the sunflower mother planted is going to bloom soon...father finally promises to bring me to do some chores next time… It gets a bit boring, you know, when there is no one." A pause. "Hey, Aladdin, it is going to be pretty busy soon but I am sure you would love it."

"So can you…" _wake up?_ You buried your face into the fabric, leaving the last part as an afterthought. You weren't brave enough to wish. You weren't the gallant or positive thinker to hope. Even so, you still sincerely desired for someone to understand you. And you hoped to find it in him.

As you gently held onto him, your wild mind must have hallucinated for you heard a reverberating 'thump' but slowly it grew, in vigor, in strength.

It was a miracle when you first won against fate. In your arms, the infant took in his first breath. He whimpered and let out a cry against the world. Even now you were reluctant to recognize the dampness you felt creeping down your cheeks that day.

.

(12)

_Without saying a word._

"You've changed."

You perked up from your squatting perch, only to frown at the old woman sitting by a few steps away. You always recalled her curses, apprehensiveness as she pointed at you to accuse you yet another deed you didn't commit. Your beaming red eyes refused to meet hers; instead travelled along the wooden fences that acted as a wall, a security between you and her.

She sighed. This time in defeat and you couldn't help but felt the satisfaction that flared up inside you as if you had just triumphed over a whole army. This made your eyes return to her in sync of your desire to rub the slightest moment of victory in her face.

You noticed her dusty brown hair that had discoloured into the palest shade of grey while wrinkles framed her aged face. However, you would not be deceived. Not by the feigned gentleness, and definitely not by the guilt that danced behind her brown eyes.

"You've changed." Her voice resounded, insistent like she was but in a funny way it lacked the usual bite and bitterness lacing in every other sentences that she spat out, especially to your face. "Or it has always been me who is mistaken."

You looked past her face to the manicured garden she owned; one of the prettiest in the village. Your mind refused to listen but your ears still did a perfect job in picking up her words, coherent and clear. You scoffed, digging your heels into the grassy terrain. Yet, you never did speak as you whirled away.

"Now that I am in this state I realize."

You paused and she stood up, with difficulty you noted. A difficulty that wasn't present in your early days when she would chase you away from her sanctuary, bringing up the death of her loved ones like mantra. Over and over again.

"I am sorry."

That day, you allowed yourself to walk a bit lighter, musing the irony in receiving comfort from someone who was no longer there.

.

(11)

_When your friends wilt around you_

You dug a hole. Not deep enough to be notable, just ample for the fallen creature that he so guardedly took shelter for. From what? You contemplated.

You watched as he laid down the remains of the bird into the makeshift chamber of the dead. Its wings awkwardly spread as if still attempting to take flight and you thought it was befitting, as a reminder of the struggle it might have been through, of the hope that it once had and of the life that it no longer had.

As the dusty soil further darkened the brilliance of the feather, the softness of the appendages seemed to be disappearing into the murkiness of the Earth.

The freshly plucked flowers that you didn't bother to remember the name of swayed under the gentle wind, nodding at an unseen rhythm, in sync of an equally intangible sorrow. Vaguely, you speculated about that simple act of offering. What was it for? To reminisce the death? Or was it serving an entirely different purpose? Alas, you thought that it did not matter. Not to the death at least.

.

(13)

_What do you think?_

The dirt and soot from the burning village clung upon you. You heard the groan and panicked screams of people everywhere. They torn at you. They wounded you.

You stumbled as your bare feet grazed against the precise sharpness of the pebbles along the familiar path, now invaded by the ugly blaze of ferocious flame. The heat hit you right in the face and you turned, twisted along the curvy paths, ducking under the claws of the inferno.

"No."

As if it was a wish that could be granted, you muttered again and again. Perhaps, hoping that the repetition would let your heart's desire took form, curling into an illusion that would give you an escape route, away from the twisted beast called reality, away from the slightest possibility that he would no longer be by your side.

.

(2)

_With your leaves unable to speak_

Words were never considered as a necessity for you. You lost count of how many times you bit your slippery tongue, if not to stop the damning syllables from shaping into the blunt knives that would not do you any good.

Words were a waste of time.

Words were difficult.

Words were incriminating.

They were everything you pictured as your sharp gleaming red eyes took note of another arguments among your peers. Those edgy comments were like oil, scorching and encouraging the flame of destruction. It torn apart whatever remnants there ever was as they pushed against each other, scattered and hurt.

Words were hurtful.

Years and years that passed thickened the callous of your tongue and dulled your speech. You spoke only when needed to, but not because of you wanted to. It was at that moment that you felt yourself losing another important part of your identity in a process of an inevitable free fall.

.

(15)

_How do you convey love?_

He was different. Very different from you. He smiled when he wanted to, his words flowed freely whenever he longed to without a trace of the caution you struggled to keep. It was a kind of freedom that you never had and you loathed it once. Or perhaps you still did when you endeavored to pick up the broken pieces of your speech. It wasn't fair, you supposed. Nothing was fair.

Your lack of ability to convey your sentiments grew into a handicap. One that no one minded as much as you did. It was ironical when you found yourself at that same junction you wandered about a few years ago, when you couldn't care less about something as trivial as this. Yet now, the present you were no longer sure.

Holding back was an art, a skill carved by your solitude. You never thought that there came a day when you so desperately grasped upon the bits and pieces of your speech. You were reminded of the life, the flickering glow of the candlelight in the middle of a thunderstorm as the crumbling pillar claimed him. His tiny form almost swallowed up by the dilapidated abode.

You pressed against the beam. You pushed against the unmoving titan. The more it remained still, the more you panicked. You who barely scratched your teen clawed, begged, attempting a feat that was highly unreachable.

The hand that you held, the hand that were offered to you time and time again. Since when had you been unable to reach it? You didn't want to lose him. In the middle of the catastrophe that none had foreseen.

_It wasn't fair._

.

(18)

_Summer's sun clouded over, _

The crystalized pain drifted past your face, streaming down your smeared face. Your scarlet eyes highlighted with emotion that was not voiced.

You were once cold, lonely in a cage you built. You were once mean, unforgiving in the world you overlooked. You were once sad, distressed in the shades of the trees you hid in.

You were grateful, loved in the freedom he represented. You were kind, caring in the realm he reflected. You were happy, joyous in the steady river flow he indulged in.

You were a lot of things. Yet, those didn't matter to you until he came and breathed, in your presence as a life that was saved from demise, from fate. And now, he was really gone.

You realized that his eyes of blending blue held no fear even as the vicious conflagration took him. Until the very end, they seemed to smile with a gentleness that you did not deserved. Your fingers clumsily curled around the golden flute; a gift from you and now a memoire for you.

You acknowledged the tearing of your heart as your eyes roved over the reddened ash of your home. With a final whisper, you set yourself free.

_Goodbye._

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(16)

_The wind streamed by_

Who was to blame? The lurking shadows peered at you as you fumbled to hold onto the non-existent thread of your sanity. Who was to blame?

Your body went against your will, accepting the pain, relishing the suffering. Strength and power that you did not know you possessed gracelessly slipped out, unceremoniously hurled at the puppeteers, for who fault was it that you had to go through such misery? When you finally gained something oh so precious to you, your embrace broke it into a million pieces, as if you were denied from even linking them together.

_It wasn't fair._

Your enraged snarl twisted into a low growl, alarmed and armed with fury.

_Who was to blame?_

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(17)

_The two overlapped._

The darkness swelled within you, contrasting the luminosity of the flame that was licking down the town. The sinister whispers kept on ringing, within your mind as you attacked, sending the cloaked men away.

Like a cornered prey, you retaliated, squeezing every ounce of your resilience into the burning air. Were you going to die as well? Your vision swayed, crushed as your back collided to the rocky path. The motion sent a wave of shock along your spine, beckoning the black dots to invade your line of vision.

'_Why?'_

The childish tone that would now haunt you crept back into your fuzzy mind. You closed your eyes, ignoring the shuffling of your potential enemies.

'_Perhaps, they can't find it in themselves to forgive.'_

You bitterly chuckled at the irony. What was there to be forgiven if he was no longer there to hold you back? You clung onto the golden instrument, holding it closer to you as if you were enveloping his person, his warmth, his life.

Ah, so this was the end.

The chilling darkness that you thought would consume you didn't come. In place of that was something you were painstakingly familiar with; a scent that you were hopeless against.

Had he come back, knowing that you had gotten into trouble? You smiled. That was so like the younger, who had made it a policy for himself to care for someone like you. You reached out with a renewed vigor, clasping the disembodied state of the child but you dared not to look, lest you fumbled over whatever control you had left.

All was not lost yet.

.

(20)

_I shall sing the proof that you lived_

"Good luck, Alibaba."

The blonde grinned, accepting the firm handshake from the purple haired king. His determination lit up behind his brown orbs as he subconsciously fidgeted with the mismatched ear ornaments. His action, though faint, didn't remain unnoticed, eliciting a feigned sigh of exasperation from the High King.

Before their bubbles of comfort were breached, the horn of departure sounded, low and dull, bringing the pair out of their respective stupor. Their eyes filtered across the deck where the masts were being set down with calculated rhythm and the meaning was clear.

With one last firm grip on Alibaba's hand, the king let go. It was until the vessel sliced through the first wave did the blonde hear the boisterous baritone voice of the ruler.

"The three magis that we spoke of before!"

The teen whipped his neck backward, almost snapping it in the process.

"May the fate be kind to you that you may encounter one of them!" As Sinbad's voice slowly dispersed into the distance, Alibaba wondered. If the chance presented himself to him, what form would it take? Perhaps it would be the mysterious traveller Yunan? Or perhaps it would be the High Priestess Scheheradze?

He sighed, amused at his own thought. In his mirthfulness, his shoulder brushed against a cloak-clad man.

"I am sorr-" His words though, were halted by the wondrous scarlet that stared back at him knowingly while the dark lank fringes adorned the unusually pale face. The enigma dropped a fleeting smile as his calloused hand settled onto Alibaba's shoulder.

"To think that I would meet someone similar to me. I guess he is never wrong."

Confusion that coursed through his whole being led him away from the sensation on his shoulder. The peculiar man strolled away with ease, wagging his hand in a dismissing manner.

That was how Alibaba ended up rooted on the wooden deck of the ship, dumbstruck by the fading dillusion of a young child beside the withdrawing man with his frail fingers safely tucked within the palm of the perplexing male. Or was it?

Without his knowledge, his earrings glittered under the beaming sun in harmony with a certain golden flute, hidden securely under the cloak of the dark haired man.

_Or perhaps it would be the unnamed magi, unknown to the world?_

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(19)

_For the sake of those who have no names._

It was a story not so long ago, in a place that once existed. A grave stood with the unspecified wild flowers, in a stillness that they occasionally enjoyed as another day began.

_Today, you were alive once more._

* * *

Trivia:

1\. This is an alternate universe. It has nothing to do with the storyline of Twisted.

2\. This is inspired by 'Euterpe' by Egoist.

3\. And yes, Aladdin died. *hide behind a wall* -I need to stop killing off the characters.-

4\. The numbers rearrange the parts to their chronological (?) order.

* * *

**A/N: I am sorry? I tried to upload this for over a week now but my internet is failing me.**


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